06 Jun 19 | Asia and Pacific, Global Journalist, Media Freedom, media freedom featured, News and features, Sri Lanka
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]This article is part of Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist’s Project Exile series, which has published interviews with exiled journalists from around the world.[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]
Sonali Samarasinghe remembers the last words of her husband Lasantha Wickrematunge on the day he was killed in 2009: “Don’t worry, I got it under control.”
Threats weren’t new to Wickrematunge. As the editor of The Sunday Leader, a Sri Lankan newspaper that published articles exposing government corruption, he’d been followed, attacked with clubs and received a funeral wreath at his office.
Samarasinghe was the chief investigative journalist and consulting editor for the newspaper and also the founding editor-in-chief of its sister paper, The Morning Leader.
Like other journalists, the couple worked in a difficult environment, as their newspapers competed with state-owned newsrooms and faced constant pressure for criticising the government of then-president Mahinda Rajapaksa. In late 2008 and early 2009, Rajapaksa’s government was in the final months of a brutal decades-long civil war with Tamil Tiger rebels. Still, Wickrematunge’s assassination shocked the south Asian nation and would force Samarasinghe into years of exile.
“For the Mahinda Rajapaksa administration, Wickrematunge was the biggest thorn in their flesh,” Samarasinghe wrote in a blog post. “He investigated corrupt military procurement deals, spoke out strongly and passionately for a negotiated settlement to the ethnic conflict and debunked blatant government propaganda on the war.”
Indeed Wickrematunge’s first wife, Raine, was so fearful for her family’s safety that she left Sri Lanka for Australia in 2002 with the couple’s three children. Samarasinghe worked for Wickrematunge for years before the couple married in 2008, just two months before his death.
She too made powerful enemies. Samarasinghe was once interrogated for more than four hours by Sri Lanka’s Criminal Investigations Department in an attempt to get her to reveal her sources in an investigation into the central bank’s dealings with a company accused of running a Ponzi scheme. In another incident, an article about tsunami relief accused Rajapaksa and other top officials of siphoning off millions in aid money. The Morning Leader’s printing presses were attacked and copies of the paper burned in 2007 by 15 gunmen after a separate exposé on the family of cabinet minister Mervyn Silva.
On 8 January 2009, Samarasinghe and Wickrematunge received a call from the newspaper while returning home from the pharmacy. It was a warning: they were being followed.
As they got out of their car, two men wearing black fatigues on a black motorcycle sped past them, staring them down, says Samarasinghe in an interview with Global Journalist. The couple went into the house and closed all their doors. Samarasinghe says she tried to keep Wickrematunge at home, but he was determined to go to the office to write his well-known political column.
On his way to the newspaper during rush hour, Wickrematunge was ambushed and killed in broad daylight by motorcycle-riding attackers, one of at least 19 journalists slain in Sri Lanka for their work since 1992, according to the Committee to Protect Journalists. Wickrematunge had been prepared for this outcome. He’d already written his own obituary, which included the line: “…when finally I am killed, it will be the government that kills me.”
“We were up against an administration that had taken impunity to the level of a martial art,” Samarasinghe says.
Samarasinghe continued receiving threats even after Wickrematunge’s assassination. Ttwo weeks later, she escaped to New York.
She became a Nieman Fellow at Harvard University in August 2009 and started the independent Lanka Standard news site in 2011. After Harvard, she spent time as a journalist in residence at City University of New York and Ithaca College.
Then in 2015 came an opportunity for justice. Rajapaksa suffered a surprise defeat to former ally Maithripala Sirisena in presidential elections. The six-year-old investigation into Wickrematunge’s death, which had yielded no convictions, was reopened. Samarasinghe was hired by the new administration to work in New York at Sri Lanka’s mission to the United Nations.
In 2016, a former soldier was found dead with an apparent suicide note in which he claimed responsibility for killing Wickrematunge’s. A police report implicated a special military unit led by Rajapaksa’s brother and defence secretary, Gotbaya Rajapaksa.
Yet progress stalled. Gotbaya, who is also being sued by Wickrematunge’s daughter in US courts for her father’s death, has announced he’s running for president to succeed Sirisena in elections later this year. Both Rajapaksas have denied involvement in the editor’s death. Meanwhile, after a wave of terrorist bombings in April killed more than 250 people, President Sirisena said that investigations into human rights abuses during the Sri Lankan Civil War had weakened the security forces and left the country at risk.
Samarasinghe spoke with Global Journalist’s Seth Bodine about the killing of her husband, the threats against her, and the prospect of those responsible escaping Sri Lankan justice. Below is an edited version of their interview.
Global Journalist: What was it like being a journalist in Sri Lanka around the time of your husband’s death?
Samarasinghe: We were up against an administration that had taken impunity to the level of a martial art. It had incrementally closed the democratic space, the space for freedom of expression. This didn’t happen overnight. It happened incrementally.
One by one private media organisations were being bought by businessmen or acolytes of the president at the time, Mahinda Rajapaksa. Even his own family.
Those who were not bought up chose to associate themselves with the ruling regime because then they could engage in lucrative business with the government. The state-controlled media was really state-controlled. It included the nation’s largest newspaper group. So, you could not compete with that.
At the time, when we were working, there was no freedom of information act. Speaking to journalists was actively discouraged by the government.
Even though the constitution provided for freedom of expression, that freedom of expression right was infringed upon by other laws. With emergency power regulations, anything could happen. There was the Prevention of Terrorism Act, which was another draconian piece of legislation which really curtailed freedom. And there were other laws, giving the government and the armed forces power to arrest without warrant.
So you could be detained at that time for up to 20 months without charge. Officials were shielded from prosecution so you couldn’t even challenge them.
The culture of impunity was just staggering. I mean, at that time white vans would go around abducting journalists and activists. Some of them never to be seen again, some of them beaten to a pulp and thrown on the side of the road.
GJ: Was there any warning of the danger to you and Lasantha?
Samarasinghe: We weren’t given any warning about the motorcyclists except a few minutes before when someone from the office called to say that he was being followed. But before that, there were certain things that were happening.
For instance, he received a cutting of a newspaper which was drenched in red ink. This was like a week before. He himself knew. He was talking to me, and he said, “It’s very dangerous now.”
Then, two days before Wickrematunge’s death, a very independent TV network was destroyed. They came in and they burned the place down.
GJ: What led you to flee?
Samarasinghe: It was the trauma of going through the death of my husband in such a violent manner. Then, neighbours let us know that the motorcyclists had come back and were circling the premises.
So I immediately left my home. My mother didn’t know where I was, I didn’t tell anyone where I was, and I stayed with a friend.
Meanwhile things were happening at home. Two men walked into the house, and despite my mother’s protest, they very aggressively started taking photos of the inside and outside of my home. They photographed my little niece. Then they rushed out of the house. So, within two weeks I realised I had to leave.
Both the Australian and American ambassadors reached out to help. And ultimately, I fled to Europe and found shelter in the home of a European ambassador who took me in for two months.
GJ: What happened at The Sunday Leader after Lasantha’s death?
Samarasinghe: For the two weeks I was in charge of the newspaper following the assassination of my husband, I wrote the political column focusing on his death, the then-president’s reaction, and the immediate aftermath. I also had other journalists intensely focus on the investigation.
We ran half-page ads on a black background of threats made by president Rajapaksa to Lasantha. However, I was compelled to flee the country. The newspaper ground to a halt and understandably diluted itself and went into survival mode.
GJ: How did you feel when you left?
Samarasinghe: You really feel like your country has betrayed you. And you also have to face so many emotions. Those who knew Lasantha just denied knowing him. Everyone was scared. It was such a horrid time.
Some of my friends and family would no longer ride in the same car with me because I had to drive to work in those two weeks, fearing that they would be collateral damage, that I would be the next obvious target. For a long time, I couldn’t even convince a caretaker or friend to check in on my house because they were just scared people were watching it, or that they could be attacked or targeted.
Superstition was doing its bit. Nobody wanted to rent or buy a home they felt was one of tragedy – because it was a home of a couple whose dreams were dashed within two months of marriage. So they thought it was bad luck.
All these things, all of these cultural and political issues were just swirling around. It was a really torrid time because of that.
It was just the panic of having to leave and having to look undefeated for the cameras because you have to look strong. The panic of not seeing familiar faces, the stress of coming to an unknown place.
Language had failed me. And I was a journalist who wrote 10,000 words or more a week. It was then that I learned and was relieved to know that it was post-traumatic stress disorder.
GJ: Before Rajapaksa surprisingly lost the 2015 election, did you imagine that you would ever go back to Sri Lanka?
Samarasinghe: I had just abandoned all hope of getting back to Sri Lanka. I thought this was going to go on forever. In 2015, before the election, even the New York Times had an editorial that said the regime is going to remain. None of us expected this to happen. The next day, we all bought tickets to go back to Sri Lanka. Everyone was buying tickets.
GJ: Gotabaya Rajapaksa, who was defence minister at the time of your husband’s death, and who was linked to his killing by a police report, has announced he will run for president this year. Are you upset that the people responsible for his death are still free?
Samarasinghe: Investigations into Lasantha’s murder are still continuing. It is not for me to comment at this time. The people of Sri Lanka will decide in democratically-held elections.
I will say this: I believe in the rule of law and I believe in divine justice. As Dr. King noted: “Evil may so shape events that Caesar will occupy a place and Christ a cross, but that same Christ will rise up and split history into AD and BC, so that even the life of Caesar must be dated by his name…the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_video link=”https://youtu.be/6BIZ7b0m-08″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist is a website that features global press freedom and international news stories as well as a weekly radio program that airs on KBIA, mid-Missouri’s NPR affiliate, and partner stations in six other states. The website and radio show are produced jointly by professional staff and student journalists at the University of Missouri’s School of Journalism, the oldest school of journalism in the United States. [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Don’t lose your voice. Stay informed.” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][vc_separator color=”black”][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship is a nonprofit that campaigns for and defends free expression worldwide. We publish work by censored writers and artists, promote debate, and monitor threats to free speech. We believe that everyone should be free to express themselves without fear of harm or persecution – no matter what their views.
Join our mailing list (or follow us on Twitter or Facebook). We’ll send you our weekly newsletter, our monthly events update and periodic updates about our activities defending free speech. We won’t share, sell or transfer your personal information to anyone outside Index.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/2″][gravityform id=”20″ title=”false” description=”false” ajax=”false”][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row full_width=”stretch_row_content”][vc_column][three_column_post title=”Global Journalist / Project Exile” full_width_heading=”true” category_id=”22142″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
29 Jan 18 | Global Journalist, Media Freedom, News and features, Sri Lanka
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This article is part of Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist’s Project Exile series, which has published interviews with exiled journalists from around the world.
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Upali Tennakoon (courtesy)
When former editor Upali Tennakoon speculates about what led to the attempt on his life in 2009, two incidents jump to mind. One was an editorial he wrote for Rivira, the Sri Lankan newspaper he managed. The other was an article he chose not to publish, a move that angered a powerful army general.
At the time, Tennakoon knew well the dangers for journalists in the South Asian nation. The government had barred reporters’ access to the war zone and criticized independent media’s “unpatriotic” coverage of the war, particularly reporting on human rights abuses by the military.
On Jan. 8, 2009 government critic Lasantha Wickrematunge, the editor of another Sri Lankan newspaper called The Sunday Leader, was shot and killed by four motorcycle-riding gunmen on his drive to work. Wickrematunge’s assassination came days before he was slated to give evidence in court about alleged corruption involving then-defense secretary Gotabaya Rajapaksa. The editor had foretold his death in an editorial he had ordered to be published in just such an event.
“When finally I am killed, it will be the government that kills me,” he wrote.
Fifteen days after the attack on Wickrematunge, it was Tennakoon’s turn. As he drove to work with his wife near the capital Colombo, a man approached his car at about 6:40 a.m. “I thought he was trying to talk to me,” says Tennakoon, in an interview with Global Journalist.
Instead the man smashed the side window of the car with an iron bar and started attacking Tennakoon. Three other armed men on two motorbikes also joined the attack with knives, wooden rods and iron bars, breaking the windshield and the side windows. Tennakoon’s face and hands were bleeding. From the passenger seat, his wife flung herself on top of him in a desperate effort to shield him from the blows.
“[We had] nothing to do, anything,” he recalled. “They also tried to break my neck, but they missed it; otherwise I would have been dead.”
The assailants fled, and Tennakoon was taken to a hospital. Three weeks later, he and his wife fled to the United States, where they have lived for the last nine years.
Looking back, Tennakoon says that the attempt on his life may have been retribution for an editorial he wrote criticizing then-president Mahinda Rajapaksa’s government in the wake of Wickrematunge’s death.
Tennakoon says there is also a second possible motive. He was attacked for choosing not to publish an article written by one of his reporters based on information from army commander Gen. Sarath Fonseka. Tennakoon thought the information was a misleading attempt by Fonseka to blame a rival, Sri Lanka’s then naval commander, for failing to stop a successful supply mission by Tamil rebels.
The precise motive remains a mystery in part because to date, no one has been successfully prosecuted for either the attack on Tennakoon or Wickrematunge. In 2016, with a new government in power, Tennakoon returned to Sri Lanka and identified one of his attackers from a lineup as an army intelligence officer named Premananda Udalagama. Udalagama had already been taken into custody in connection with Wickrematunge’s death, but was later released on bail.
Last year, police told a Sri Lankan court that the former army commander Fonseka had testified that the former defense secretary, Gotabaya Rajapaksa, ran a secret intelligence unit outside of the normal command structure that targeted Wickrematunge as well as other journalists and dissidents, according to al-Jazeera. Rajapaksa has denied any wrongdoing, and both he and Fonseka did not respond to messages from Global Journalist.
Tennakoon’s experience was hardly unusual. Between 2004 and 2009, 16 journalists were killed in Sri Lanka, according to the Committee to Protect Journalists. In at least 10 cases, not a single suspect has been convicted.
Tennakoon, 65, now lives in Los Angeles and works for a rental car agency. He still blogs and writes occasionally for Helabima, a U.K.-based Sinhala-language publication. He spoke with Global Journalist’s Yanqi Xu about his attack and the problem of impunity in Sri Lanka, where a new government elected in 2015 came to power promising to prosecute those responsible for attacks on journalists during the civil war. Below, an edited version of their interview:
GJ: What happened right after you were attacked?
Tennakoon: I called the police. We stayed in the hospital for five days.
The situation was fearful. I got threatening calls and was asked to leave the country immediately. My friend at the newspaper asked [then] defense secretary Gotabaya Rajapaksa to send security to me while I was in the hospital, but the defense secretary refused and said it was not necessary.
[After the hospital] I didn’t go back to my place and stayed at my wife’s parents’ house… I knew the perpetrators might be waiting for a second chance to finish their job… We left on Feb. 14 [2009] because I did not have any backup in Sri Lanka. My wife and I both had five-year multiple-entry visas to the U.S., so we decided to come. After we arrived, we applied for asylum. We were granted asylum about seven months later.
GJ: What do you know about the people who attacked you?
Tennakoon: The Crime Investigations Department [CID] investigated the telecommunications of those who might have been involved in these cases [of attacks on journalists]. They thought some were related to my case.
My wife and I went back to Sri Lanka in 2016 and identified one attacker, who was actually intelligence personnel. I went alone again in early 2017, but didn’t identify anyone.
Evidence has emerged over the connections between the killing of Lasantha Wickrematunge and the assault on me. It can be assumed that the same squad handled both attacks and I believe their intention was to kill me. Such a squad involving the members of the military could not have been formed without the support of the top-brass of the military.
GJ: Do you think you’ll see justice for your attack?
Tennakoon: I do not believe that in the current political situation the attackers will be brought to justice. The previous government never inquired or arrested anyone.
The new government promised to inquire into cases of violence against journalists and bring the criminals to court during the election.
But now they are not helping the police and CID to access the information they needed. I have the feeling that current political authorities too are trying to protect the perpetrators… their intention is only to take political mileage out of these cases. They are not bothered about bringing culprits to book.
The current president [Maithripala Sirisena] asked why the attackers were remanded for so long and talked about their human rights, but he was not talking about our human rights. We, in hundreds, lost our jobs, and Lasantha Wickrematunge even got killed. The case is still being heard… the issue is that justice is getting delayed. And, as we all know, justice delayed is justice denied.
GJ: Was it a hard choice to leave Sri Lanka? Do you feel safe to returning now?
Tennakoon: It was difficult to give up journalism as it was a huge part of my life. I also had to leave my parents behind. I have no wish to return since the individuals who I believe to be responsible are still in positions of power… Sarath Fonseka, the then Army Commander, is now a cabinet minister. Former defense secretary Gotabaya Rajapaksa plays an active role in the political domain too, though he is out of power.
I feel [releasing suspects on bail] jeopardized my personal safety. I don’t know what will happen to me when I visit Sri Lanka next time. I do not feel safe to return.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_video link=”https://youtu.be/tOxGaGKy6fo”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship partner Global Journalist is a website that features global press freedom and international news stories as well as a weekly radio program that airs on KBIA, mid-Missouri’s NPR affiliate, and partner stations in six other states. The website and radio show are produced jointly by professional staff and student journalists at the University of Missouri’s School of Journalism, the oldest school of journalism in the United States. [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Don’t lose your voice. Stay informed.” use_theme_fonts=”yes”][vc_separator color=”black”][vc_row_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/2″][vc_column_text]Index on Censorship is a nonprofit that campaigns for and defends free expression worldwide. We publish work by censored writers and artists, promote debate, and monitor threats to free speech. We believe that everyone should be free to express themselves without fear of harm or persecution – no matter what their views.
Join our mailing list (or follow us on Twitter or Facebook) and we’ll send you our weekly newsletter about our activities defending free speech. We won’t share your personal information with anyone outside Index.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/2″][gravityform id=”20″ title=”false” description=”false” ajax=”false”][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_separator color=”black”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_basic_grid post_type=”post” max_items=”6″ style=”load-more” items_per_page=”2″ element_width=”12″ grid_id=”vc_gid:1517223145889-6c84a978-58ad-0″ taxonomies=”22142″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
24 Jul 15 | mobile, News and features, Sri Lanka
The Colombo Telegraph, Sri Lanka’s most iconoclastic investigative news website, is gearing up for this year’s second national election. And once again they face the threat of censorship — despite a presidential promise to bring it to an end.
January’s polls saw the website blocked to domestic voters by order of authoritarian incumbent president Mahinda Rajapaksa. Unseated by shock winner Maithripala Sirisena, one of the victor’s first acts after the vote was to lift the official banning order.
Unfortunately his officials didn’t get the memo and simply resorted to more subtle and illegal censorship. Their covert interference was exposed by the Colombo Telegraph just a month later, drawing a personal apology from the minister responsible, Mangala Samaraweera, and a promise of a full investigation.
That promised investigation has so far come to nothing, while the later announcement of a general election for August 18 has raised political tensions. This week eight international freedom of expression groups, including Index on Censorship, wrote to Samaraweera reminding him of his promise.
“The media must be free to cover the upcoming campaigns without fear of interference, covert or overt, online or off,” said the groups. Censorship, legal or illegal, may fall hard on independent voices like the Colombo Telegraph unless the state’s secret censors are found and stopped.
Colombo Telegraph editor Uvindu Kurukulasuriya is calling on the government to complete the inquiry as soon as possible and guarantee that the media will be free to report the campaign.
But the Colombo Telegraph has few friends among the current government, led by United National Party prime minister Ranil Wickremesinghe.
The government has been embarrassed by the site’s publication of parts of a leaked 19-page draft parliamentary committee report into an alleged government bond scam linked to Central Bank Governor Arjuna Mahendran and his son-in-law. The dissolution of parliament would have buried its detailed allegations had it not been leaked.
Wickremesinghe said the draft report was ‘false and perverted’ and has no official status. This did not stop him threatening media that cite it with prosecution under an act prohibiting sharing details of committee proceedings before they are presented to parliament itself. The use of the act – much criticised by independent media who have called for its repeal – is designed to deter other journalists following up the story during the election campaign.
Media rights are suddenly looking shaky across the country. Despite pledging to introduce a Right to Information Act as a key part of the Sirisena-Wickremesinghe government’s first 100 days in power, they failed to deliver. And the ruling party set the tone for the election campaign by reportedly pressing state media to downplay coverage of the start of Rajapakse’s bid to return to power as prime minister.
Meanwhile the threat of more illegal online censorship remains as long as the original crime remains un-investigated. It took a careful study by the site’s technical advisers in Denmark to discover that what appeared to be poor connections to some of the site’s more controversial news pages, was in fact targeted interference.
The source of the interference was traced to a server in the central office of Sri Lanka Telecom at the OTS Building in Lotus Road in Colombo.
Websites can be “prohibited or be subject to supervision and control” under section 69 of the Sri Lanka Telecommunications Act 1991 – but only under ministerial authority, and under a publicly announced order. No such order was made to replace the one lifted by Sirisena.
Kurukulasuriya’s online news site, run by volunteers for four years, has developed a strong record of controversial scoops backed with an impressive array of documentation.
“We’ve never supported any particular political party, organisation or individual over another, and have proven it over the years. We just want our site to continue as an independent media organisation without unnecessary legal interference or illegal censorship.”
26 Jan 15 | News and features, Politics and Society, Sri Lanka
Any nation’s media would be hard pressed keeping track of a landslide of political change, environmental crises, imminent constitutional reform and a general election, all while keeping safe from a generation of assassins used to impunity.
When the media itself needs reform too, the problems might seem overwhelming. This is why Sri Lanka needs a constitutionally recognised national commission to oversee that reform and ensure freedom of expression is properly defended.
Maithripala Sirisena’s unexpected and virtually peaceful election win over incumbent President Mahinda Rajapaksa was quickly painted as a game changer for the country’s media.
He and new Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe began well by lifting blocks on independent news websites banned by the old regime. Exiled journalists were urged to return. Sirisena also promised to use his new authority to investigate the 2009 murder of combative political journalist Lasantha Wickrematunge, whose killers are still free.
But the early offers soon began to look token. There was no matching commitment to identify the killers of cartoonist Prageeth Eknelygoda, who went missing five years ago, or the men behind the notorious “white van” abductions of peaceful activists. In fact Sirisena’s commitment to media freedom looks somewhat qualified.
A series of special expert commissions will be established to oversee an independent review of the judiciary, police, public services, elections, human rights and anti-corruption measures, written into authority by a 19th amendment to the constitution. Pointedly perhaps, the list does not include a commission on the media.
Plans for an independent media commission are not new, and were excluded from what was eventually enacted as the 17th amendment to Sri Lanka’s Constitution in 2001. Media rights groups should steel themselves for a fight to ensure that the much-needed body is not excluded again.
Uvindu Kurukulasuriya, editor of the once banned Colombo Telegraph, thinks it unfortunate that the new government will not establish a media commission, but thinks it was deliberate. “They are not willing to transform state media into (independent) public service broadcasters, and they don’t want to broad-base (collectivise) the state owned Lake House newspaper group.”
The journalist and legal scholar Asanga Welikala calls for the founding of an independent media commission on the recommendation of the constitutional council and representing working journalists, academics, proprietors and new media.
“The commission once constituted would have overall oversight of public service media and would be answerable to parliament,” he argued for the online political journal Groundviews. “Its primary role would be to oversee the public service media institutions, but may include other powers and functions, including the regulation of the (new and traditional) media marketplace, and to promote the freedom of expression in all its forms including through new technology.”
Kurukulasuriya urges action to break the grip of the political appointees heading the country’s major public and private media companies. The co-option of the owners was the subtler side of the old regime’s system of media control, he says. “The previous Rajapaksa regime changed the ownerships of several media institutions through intimidation.”
Self-censorship drove the majority; more deadly means of censorship were reserved for the small cadres of independent journalists who could not be bought or fired, says Kurukulasuriya. Will the government go on reading “media freedom” as owners’ rights, not journalists’ rights?
Reforming the Sri Lankan media is a vast task. The counter-intuitively named Independent Television Network needs privatisation and the nominally public Sri Lanka Broadcasting Corporation (SLBC), and the Sri Lanka Rupavahini Corporation (SLRC), need a proper public service broadcast mandate and an end to political interference. A constitutionally mandated media commission could appoint and “audit” the works of a new independent broadcasting authority founded to oversee their works.
There is justice still to be found too. According to the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), Sri Lanka has the fourth worst record on its 2014 Impunity Index, which spotlights countries where journalists are murdered and the killers remain free.
In an open letter to Rajapaksa on the eve of elections, Wickrematunge’s widow Sonali Samarasinghe wrote: “At no time in the history of our country has the freedom of expression so brutally been repressed as it is now. Such media as do operate in the country, have been transformed either into propaganda mouthpieces for you and your brothers, or bullied into submission.”
The state media’s job is to “reflect the line of whatever government is in power,” admitted Rajpal Abeynayake, the editor of the state-run Daily News in a memorable post-election quote to The Guardian’s Amantha Perera. “If the government changes, so does the newspaper. It’s as simple as that. If they want to change that practice they could, but so far no government has done it.”
That Sirisena is showing little inclination to substantively change matters. Bandula Padmakumara — the chairman of the Lake House newspaper group, morning news show anchor and well documented supporter of the Rajapakse family — went just a few hours after the election results came in. But few others have followed.
The new president may have to rely on established partners in self-censorship to help shore up his “fragile, sprawling and diverse” coalition, as the New York Times described it. With parliamentary elections set for late April under Sirisena’s 100 day schedule, the campaign may see old favours be called in and the media expected to help paper over the coalition’s cracks.
Without greater independence the Sri Lankan media will not be able to fairly and accurately report the campaign. International and regional media rights groups need to heap pressure of their own on Sirisena’s new media ministry secretary, Karunarathna Paranawithana, who describes himself on his Facebook page as a “diplomat, journalist (and) political activist”.
The appointment of a constitutionally recognised commission for the media next month would not do much to change the situation in time for the election, but it would send a clear message to embattled journalists that change was on the agenda and risks were worth taking.
According to Sirisena’s own strict timetable, his administration will establish the independent commissions on Wednesday 18 February. There’s still time to add one on media to the list.
This article was posted on 26 January 2015 at indexoncensorship.org
